How do you know when journaling isn’t enough?
You should journal.
Correction, journaling will help you with whatever issue you’re dealing with. And I know you’re dealing with something. Life is so freaking hard. Living inside your own mind seems impossible sometimes.
Journaling can help you sort things out simply by giving words to the chatter in your head.
Here’s the truth nobody else who writes about self-reflection will tell you — sometimes journaling isn’t enough.
For the past decade or so, I’ve learned and developed dozens of techniques and methods that help me solve specific things related to self-talk, productivity, and personal and spiritual growth.
These methods work. But they won’t fix anything without help.
If you are or have been a consistent journaler, here are three clues you might need help.
3 (of many) ways to know when journaling might not be enough
- When your previous entries tend to tread the same ground day after day, it’s time to get outside your head. Talk to someone you trust.
- When day after day, you can’t even muster a quick journal entry of 3 things you’re grateful for, it’s probably time for therapy.
- Talk to your doctor when you see entries of apathy or hopelessness more days than not.
These clues from my entries led me to mental health therapy, leading to an ADHD (without the H) diagnosis.
My family physician prescribed medicine that, for the past four months, has made a difference in my life.
I tell people I haven’t felt this good since the first Clinton administration. Lifelong loved ones chuckle — and smile. Because they know it’s true.
And they’re almost as grateful for my presence as I am to be more active in theirs.
I still beat myself up more often than is healthy — in my head and journal entries. But new soundtracks are emerging.
Review your written self-reflection for clues that journaling might not be enough, then have the courage to ask for help.
In the United States, text or call 988.
International friends: Use this handy directory when you need to talk to someone.
This essay is in memory of the best friend I never met, author Steve Austin, who lost his battle with depression two years ago this week.
We love you, Lindsey, Ben, and Cara. Thinking about you lots.
